Lost: We Are
by Nattle Sage
Summary: What if 50 passengers survive in the air crash of flight 815. Each of them has its own dark secret, but to stay alive they should learn to trust each other. The island gives them a chance to start over and to find what they’ve been looking for.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my new project and I hope you would like it. I decided to keep up with the event of the tv-show, but some of them will be changed. I hope you'll be with me and let me know what you think about it. Please review!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any characters of the Lost, in fact I own only the original characters which is sad.

** _Lost: We Are_**

**The crash**

"_My name is Margaret Rid. When you read the morning paper, you may come across an article about the unusual day I had some days ago. Normally, there is never anything newsworthy about my life. But that all changed. That is, when the "Oceanic" airliner, flight 815, had disappeared on its way from Sidney to Los-Angeles…"_

The first sense that traveled down the complete blackness and reached Margaret was the sound. A rustling sound of something she had heard long ago, as a child. But unlike that long forgotten, this one was increasing in volume, it was frightening, odd, as if something was revving. And there was that wind. It might have seemed pleasant and refreshing, but the smell, the smell was disgusting. Something burning: paraffin, leather and many others…

Margaret's honey-brown eyes snapped open. She was lying in the sand, stunned and disoriented, wearing a sultry halter knee length brown chocolate cocktail dress in soft chiffon, with a softly pleated bodice and ruched wrap detail at waist, fluid layered skirt with soft pleats and slit details, halter straps slip over head and high-hilled brown shoes; her wavy black hair with pomegranate red streaks were spread about. A great tragedy was put on a display around her: screaming, the awful noise, people running and crying. Overcoming the pain from the deep bleeding slash running down her leg, she stood up, breathing erratically and looked around. Only several feet away, the middle section of the fuselage was plowed into the sand with one wing sticking straight up. The sporadic sparks were bursting from the inverted engine, fire and wreckage everywhere. Dozens of people were running about, some injured severely, others not, they were screaming, but their cries were drowned out by the sound and wind, caused by the huge jet engine. It was still working, still revving spastically, spewing coolant and sparks and sucking in sand and everything that happened to be on its way.

Margaret watched all this, but she couldn't actually see it. Slowly her hand reached the back of her head, that began to throb, but as she felt something warm and sticky, she jerked the hand back: it was covered in blood. However the horror of what she saw far outweighed any physical pain.

Madness, complete chaos and terror, cries for help… A man had run past Margaret, just in front of the massive engine, and without any warning, he got sucked into the engine. As soon as he hit the blades, the engine exploded, showering with pieces of burning debris those who were still alive.

However it had done its part and put Margaret out of her trance. She looked around again, counting for possibilities. The one thing that was clear to her was that she had to get out of there and fast. She started to move away as fast as she could, but due to her injury and the shoes that were sticking in the sand, it seemed like she was walking in a slow-motion. She heard a desperate cry for help somewhere near, but continued her way without paying any attention. The cry continued and she felt somebody grabbing her hand frantically. Reluctantly she turned around to face a young brown-haired girl of just about twenty. Her face was covered in dirt and blood, her blue-gray eyes filled with panic, she was shaking violently from head to toe.

"Please, please! You should help me! My father! God, my father, he's there," she was pointing back at the wreckage, looking at Margaret pleadingly. "He's hurt, he…"

The girl was still clutching Margaret's hand, but Mags just gave her a blank stare. Is this girl mad? She needs to get out of here, now, before all this will blow to Hell. Mags was about to turn away, but something stopped her. Probably, it was the girl's eyes, so innocent, so frightened, and so hysterical. Margaret nodded slightly, letting the girl to pull her back, towards the wreckage.

They reached the unconscious man surprisingly quickly. He was in his late fifties, his hair and beard gray, making him look exceptionally prominent and attractive. Margaret fell to her knees beside him, scanning his body for damage. The results were inauspicious. The piece of metal had stuck into his side and was bleeding profusely. Margaret looked up at the girl determined.

"Give me your blouse," Margaret was surprised by how coarsely and husky her voice sound.

"W-What?" The girl was in shock and hardly understood human's speech.

"Your blouse! Gimme that, now!" Margaret cried out. It had its effect as the girl started unbuttoning the blouse hastily. However her hands were shaking and she had to tear it apart. She handed the blouse to Mags, uncomfortable to stand there in a bra only. Margaret pressed the blouse to the man's side, looking away to where the other people were helping each other. Among the crowd, there was a man in the white shirt that had caught Margaret's eye. He was treating the injured professionally. That must be a doctor. A crazy plan was forming in her mind. Gritting her teeth in pain, Mags stood up.

"Look, I need you to stay here with him," Margaret told the girl, who began to shake her head fiercely.

"No, no, please don't leave me!" The tears were spilling from her eyes full of terror. Margaret grabbed the girl by the shoulders.

"Hey, I'm just going to get some help, so we could get your father out of here, OK?" The girl nodded slowly. "Now, stay with him, but don't try to pull the piece out, understood?" the girl nodded once again. "I'll be right back. Oh, what's your name?"

"Lily-May," the girl answered after a beat.

"Ok, Lily-May, I'll bring somebody. Don't touch the metal piece."

Margaret took of the shoes and sprinted off to the man she supposed was a doctor. He was so confident in what he was doing, trying to revive a woman in the peach blouse, so controlled, that Mags involuntary wanted to be around him.

"Hey, you're a doctor, yes? I need a help, the man over there is injured, a metal piece stuck in his side. I didn't touch it. He's unconscious. I think it did no damage to the internal organs… What should I do?" Margaret blurted out. The doctor looked at her for a moment and without stopping his work, answered, his voice self-restrained.

"Right, don't touch it, just take him away from here. I'll be there soon." Margaret nodded curtly and run to find help.

She had to find someone to carry the man. But all around people were running in panic no one paid any attention to her. For a moment Mags felt desperate and just stood still amid the madness, ready to cry, aware of her helplessness. But it was only for a moment. Mags clenched her fists so that her nails dug into the flesh. No panic, no fear… She made several deep breaths. In the corner of an eye she saw a man about her own age, who was asking everyone for…a pen. Without delay Margaret made her way to the man.

"Wait, hey, wait!" She was breathless by the time she reached him. He turned and looked at her in confusion.

"I-I need your help. Over there. Come, please, come with me," her inconsistent speech made him even more perplexed. Mags understood she was bloody panicking, but the lack of oxygen, injures and an approaching wave of nausea, deprived her of ability to think straight. As if knowing that the man took her by the forearms and shook her a little.

"Come down, come down. What's wrong?" He was looking her in the eyes. Mags made a gulp of air and explained:

"The man he's injured, he needs help, we need to take him away from here, until,"

A loud metallic whine cut her off and made both of them to turn around. The wing was bending at the fuselage and was some moments away from crushing down upon sand, burying those who failed to get away. Mags looked to where the girl was sitting near her father rocking back and forth.

"God, come on. Hurry!" she cried out, grabbing the man by the arm and rushing to the girl. They arrived to her side surprisingly fast. Margaret gripped the girl's hand, lifting her up.

"I'll take him by the head, you take his legs," the man commanded, and for the first time in her life Margaret was glad to hear someone ordering her.

They moved hasty as the wing started to fall right behind them. The wing smashed to the ground and exploded with an enormous blast sending them all to the ground, showering with pieces of fiery metal, plastic, wood and other things. Margaret felt her body shook to the blast and then there was silence…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II "The Island"

"_An odd thing happens when we die. Our senses vanish. Taste, touch, smell, and sound become a distant memory. But our sight. Ah. Our sight expands. And we can suddenly see the world we left behind so clearly. Of course, most of what's visible to the dead can also be seen by the living. If they only take time to look..."_

Flashback

"…and that is a prominent part of our work in the University," Mr.Hallbruck, the host of the annual Intercultural Conference announced, addressing the formally dressed audience. The waiters were supplying the guests and participants with champagne, while famous specialists and those, who only started their career in scientific research, were giving reports on the work done. "Ladies and Gentlemen, today I'm proud to introduce you one of the professors of our University, who despite her age managed to delve into the concept of World View. Please, meet Professor Margaret Rid."

There were polite applause and a woman in a tailored dark-blue trouser suit, her hair in a high ponytail, handed a blonde man beside her a flute of champagne and made her way to the podium.

"Um, hello everyone," she began awkwardly. "Have you ever thought of what makes us so different? Why sometimes can't we understand each other? Why do we argue even though we are pretty sure in _our truth_? Maybe because each and every of us has its own World View? Our World View helps us to locate our place and rank in the Universe. Our World View is so deeply embedded in our psyches that we take it completely for granted, and assume automatically that everyone else view the world as we do and these may lead to misunderstanding…" During her performance, Margaret looked at the blond man who was making her some signs. Finally, she came to an end and without waiting for applause, came down to disappear in the crowd.

On her way into the hall she grabbed another flute of champagne, drank it in one gulp and ran down the staircase. In the foyer, where she was awaited by the blond.

"Excellent speech, professor," he smirked.

"Oh, shut up, Will," Margaret rolled her eyes. "Better give me a lift to the airport, I'm terribly late for my flight." They walked toward the black Ford, and as soon as the doors were open, Margaret plopped onto the passenger's seat. Starting the engine will turned to her, a shadow of concern on his face.

"You sure want to do that? Mean, think twice it only can get worse…"

"You too! Look, Will, I know what I'm doing, now, demmit, press the accelerator!" Several minutes they rode in silence.

"You don't want to brake in and say goodbye to Dennis?"

"No, Will, I've already said goodbye to him, my luggage is in the airport and there's nothing you can say to prevent me from doing what I'm about to do." Margaret answered firmly. "I'll call Dennis, when I'll be in Sydney."

The end of flashback

Margaret moaned, suddenly aware of the sharp pain in her left leg and aching head. Her mind was reeling and seemed like covered in thick mist, so that she couldn't concentrate on any thought in particular.

"Welcome back," she heard a male voice through the thickness of whatever was inside her head. She tried to open her eyes, which proved to be an uneasy task. After several moments of blinking, the obscurity vanished and she was able to see.

"Ah, hello, Doc," her voice sound unfamiliar even to her.

"Just Jack," he smiled a little. "How are you feeling?"

"Hope not as I look like. It's just like I've been overrun by a train," Margaret smiled despite of herself.

"You have a deep slash on your leg, so I had to sew it while you blacked out, plus a minor concussion of the brain, so you would suffer some after-effects like nausea, vertigo, headaches…"

"Ok, ok, I've understood," she cut him off, with an uneasy smile. Margaret tried to sit up and immediately regretted this decision: the world around her was plunged in darkness, the bright circles dancing in front of her eyes. She felt Jack's hands steadying her from falling somewhere.

"Hey, you shouldn't do that, I was actually about to say that you need a confinement to bed."

"Really, it's ok," she lied to him shamelessly. "So, how many people survived?"

"About fifty. The tail and the front section broke away and we have no idea of where they are or if they are still alive…" his eyes were dimmed as if he was back there, on the sight of the air crash.

"And the girl…, Lily-May?" Margaret asked quietly. "What of her father?"

"He's still unconscious and bleeding, but I managed to extract the metal piece without any extra damage. We have to wait and see if it gets infected… But it's not as bad as… We have another passenger with the same injury, but he's not so lucky… Um, you should take a rest now," Jack stood up, ready to live. "And remember…"

"Margaret," she prompted.

"Remember, Margaret, try not to fall asleep at least for several hours, it's maybe dangerous with your head injury, and no walking or the stitches will come apart. I'll check you in the morning," he was about to walk away, but turned suddenly to her as a thought crossed his mind unexpectedly.

"You, d'you have any medical certificate?"

"What?" she asked taken aback.

"When you ran to me, you said that no damage had been done to the man's internal organs. How did you know that?" Jack eyed her intently.

"I-I just…guessed…that is, I just supposed it was so. Why d'you ask?"

"Just curious," Jack waved it off, "Good night."

Margaret took a time to observe her surroundings. She was sitting in front of the bright fire, that she supposed was made by Jack, but as she looked around she saw several such fires, spread out across the beach, groups of those who survived huddle around them, trying not to give in the panic and despair everyone felt. Far apart from the others sat those who had lost someone, someone dear to their hart, but the sense of loss was mutual, as today they had suffer the loss of something very important but what? What was missing?

The one fire was particularly big, and Margaret assumed that was a signal fire. The question she dared not to ask was… The shadow fell on her face and Margaret looked up to see the girl, Lily-May, wrapped into one of the blankets from the plane. She was extremely pale, but her eyes were red conveying that she had been crying.

"Hello, I, um, just thought you might be hungry," She said hesitantly, handing Margaret an airplane meal.

"Wow, thanks a lot! I don't even realize how hungry I am! Do sit down," the girl set next to Mags obediently. "So, how's your father?"

"He's… Doctor says he'll be ok, but…" her lower lip began to tremble, but Lily-May didn't allow herself to cry anymore. "He's still unconscious and here, with no medical treatment…I'm scared for him. It's just…he's the only relative I have…"

"It's gonna be alright," Mags put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We've survived the Hell today, what can be worse? Look at this from the other side, it's not that every day you are given a chance to spend a romantic evening by the fire with a perfect view of the ocean. If not for my health condition I would have a swim," Lily-May laughed out involuntary. So absurd, such a tragedy in a heavenly place like these.

"Do you think they will come soon?" Lily-May asked quietly.

"They?"

"The rescuers. Do you think they will come soon?" She looked at Margaret and her eyes were praying to give her at lest a ray of hope. Something Margaret was not able to give her.

"I don't know…Let's just hope they will find us…soon," there was a silence between them. "And you, you're speaking with this accent, I can't make it out. What is it?"

"German. My father is German, I'm a half-blood," Lily-May smiled sweetly. "It seems we hadn't a proper introduction. Lily-May Blatter," she extended her petite hand.

"Margaret Rid," Mags smiled, taking it and shaking warmly.

"Your leg, how is it?" Lily-May asked looking at the tight bandage that was still bleeding slightly.

"Hope, I will survive, though it hurts like Hell," the very thought of accurate stitches made by ordinary threads from the knitting kit made the pain ten times worse. "Well, as I blacked out for most of the day you should tell me what was happening. D'you got to know all of these people?" Margaret asked half-jokingly, trying to distract the girl from the events of the day.

"Not all, of course, but some," she confessed, happy to be distracted. "Over there, that big guy – it's Hurley, he brought the meals, and close to him a pregnant woman – it's Claire…"

"Dear God! How could she make it? Poor thing, how many months is she pregnant, I wonder?"

"About eight, I assume. And that woman, that seats alone, she has lost her husband, he was seating in the tail…" Margaret was astounded that Lily-May, despite her own problems had learned so much about others, the things they obviously didn't tell her. "And that blond woman, the one who's painting toenails, is Shannon, Boone's sister…"

"Wait, who's Boone?" It was hard for Mags to follow the girl's speculations, partially due to her shaken up brain, but moreover, because she really didn't give a damn.

"It's the man who help us with dad, you known, the one you brought just before the explosion."

"Oh, that man," Margaret smiled at the memory, "The one who was running around the beach asking everyone for a pen, of all things!"

"And I hear it from a girl who was flying in an evening dress!" As ill luck would have it, he was passing by and heard the whole conversation. Moreover he was smirking. Since Margaret still was wearing that dress and her hair was a mess mixed with blood, and her leg was a sight, she felt strangely stupid. Despite her best judgments, she smiled sheepishly, watching him walk by towards the blond girl. However she noticed the way Lily-May looked at him, the one who saved her father. Margaret shook her head. Of course Boon was handsome, but too much for her taste.

"By the way," Mags muttered in defense, "I had my own reasons."

"I'm gonna go," Lily-May stood up, "I have to…"

Whatever she was about to say was cut short by the terrible blood-freezing sound. It was something indescribable, unlike anything else heard before, both terrifying primitive and greatly disturbing.

"Wh-what was it?" Lily-May whispered, alarmed.

"I don't know," Margaret answered in a whisper, holding onto her to get up, which was not easy with her injured leg. Struggling with tears and gritting teeth in pain she finally managed to pull her up. The same moment the sound repeated only this time it was much louder and more horrifying. Margaret tried to catch the direction the sound was coming from, and as if hypnotized started to move towards it, with Lily-May following. There were thirteen of them, thirteen people starring into darkness trying to see and to understand what mystery the island was hiding from them. There were gasps as all their heads simultaneously turned to another part of the jungle. Something big, enormous was moving with great speed… And then everything became quiet…

"_But even then everyone understood that something was terribly wrong with that island and that no matter what, there life will never be the same. Whether they want it or not the island started to change them, giving a chance to start over, testing them, sorting out. They have died only to find a new life, but what awaits them on the way, what the fate has for them is unknown…"_

* * *

Hey, I want to know what you think about this. If you have any ideas and/or suggestions, please let me no. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 "Something special"

"_Yes. As I look back at the world I left behind, it's all so clear to me. The beauty that waits to be unveiled. The mysteries that long to be uncovered. But people so rarely stop to take a look. They just keep moving. It's a shame, really. There's so much to see…" _

Flashback

"Oh, she's doing so much better, Mr.Blatter," the nurse was walking down a long white corridor, followed by the imposing man in his early fifties. His grey hair and beard only emphasized his charisma and made him look a lot like Sean Connery. His eyes never wandered, firmly fixed on the nurse's back. He seemed to be greatly disturbed by this place, eager to get out of here as soon as possible. However, it was not destined to happen, as the nurse was going on bubbling some stories, showing him all that things he couldn't care less. "She's constantly reading or playing the piano or writing something… Such a creative nature she is! And Doctor Roland stopped giving her the medication several months ago. I…"

"Fräulein Gritts," Herr Blatter interrupted abruptly, his voice edged, "I want this to finish as soon as possible." He was speaking with a heavy German accent, so it usually took people some time to understand what he was saying. Nonetheless, the nurse caught the meaning instantly, once he gave her a fearsome firm look.

"Y-yes, sure," she seemed to be absolutely uncomfortable around him. "This way, please."

They walked through the plastic door into a large room. It was occupied by different people: young and old, those who were reading books and playing chess or mumbling something indistinguishable. But there was something about that people, something that prevented them to be called normal. The nurse and Herr Blatter walked past the exceptionally large group, bunched up around a small TV-set, watching a stupid talk-show unable to pull away. It was a frightening sight and it could plunge many into desperation, many but not Herr Blatter.

In the far corner of the room, near the opened window sat a girl of about sixteen, so petite almost fragile, her thick brown hair in a loose bun, her brows knitted in concentration as she was reading a book. As if sensing someone approaching, she looked up and froze. Her eye opened wide, her pupil contracted. The nurse was smiling sweetly, but the girl couldn't see anything except the man standing in front of her. He was smirking grimly at her, like as though he was getting a special kind of satisfaction seeing the girl so afraid.

"Guten Morgen, Lily-May," Herr Blatter said solemnly. The girl jumped at the sound of his voice and all the ghosts of the past assaulted her again.

The End of Flashback

Lily-May was sitting beside her father somberly. Several hours passed since the Doctor had gone to the jungles with Kate and the former rock star, Charlie, leaving her and Boone detailed instructions how to tend the wounded.

She studied her father's face: so troubled even if he was unconscious; his breath was heavy, wheezing sound as the oxygen struggled its way down his lungs. Lily-May took a piece of cloths and, soaking it, put another compress to his burning forehead. Yes, it all was so strange… Even in his sleep he was intimidating and she was almost afraid to be around him. But, he also was so vulnerable, that…her mind started wondering… What if…

Somewhere near, the other man way suffering, dying, but Lily-May didn't hear his cries and erratic breath. What was there on this island? What was that, they saw yesterday? Only yesterday all was so clear, so accurate to her, and now she's like Alice from Wonderland, who had fall down the rabbit's hole.

She was so frustrated she wanted to scream…but it wasn't the time to give in yet. She bended down so that her face was several inches from her father's, a small smile on her lips. Yes, now she would be free…

"Hey, hello there!" A voice behind her made Lily-May jump. She turned abruptly to face Hurley, who tried hard not to look around at the wounded.

"Hm, I, um, I've found your luggage," he handed her two bags. "Those were the only signed in German, so I've guessed that's yours."

"Why, thanks a lot, Hurley," Lily-May smiled sweetly. "Are you going through the luggage?"

"Yep, just thought you shouldn't go there, mate. Y'know it's kinnda gloomy in there." Lily-May didn't answer, but a small smile was still playing on her lips.

* * *

Margaret made her way to the crash site. She was more then determined to find her luggage, before it would do anyone else. Despite that her leg was still hurting and, as Jack was changing bandages in the morning, he forbade her to do any physical exercises, it was against her better judgments to listen to doctors. Moreover she wanted to change, as walking round the beach in the evening dress was really strange. She still wondered about the weather changes on this island: one minute it was raining, the other – Sun is burning. She smiled at the pleasant memory of raindrops on her skin, as she was walking in the rain instead of hiding. She took her chance and washed all dirt and blood out of her hair, so that it was shining in the sun now, red against black, the waves cascading down her shoulders.

"Hey, I wouldn't go there if I were you," She turned to Boone, who was standing several inches away, busy with his own bags.

"I'm not afraid of dead if you're about that," Margaret answered. "But I'll not lie to you it's not a pleasant work, though I have to wear something instead of this dress. How'd you think?"

"I like it that way," he gave her a smile and she returned it. "Ok, let's go and find your bags."

"Wow, you're not used to travel light, are you?" Boone asked, after they finally had found two large bags. Though Margaret did not tell him, but the most important item of her luggage was missing, and while she as acting like everything was great, she was more then anxious to find it. "What are you carrying there, bricks?"

"I thought you've no problem with that, you have a sister after all," Margaret looked to where Shannon was lying in the Sun, wearing a bikini, getting a good tan.

"My stepsister, to be precise. And yes, Shannon is so much special, so never be anything like her," these words made Margaret laugh. There was a moment of silence, then,

"How's your leg?"

"Well," Margaret tried to choose her wording carefully, "it's not as if I'm…dying or something, but every thought about those usual threads in it makes me sick." Boone nodded in understanding. He was about to say something else, but the shouts cut him short. There were Sayid and Sawyer ready to fight each other. Without speaking a word, both Boone and Margaret made their way towards the fight.

The group of people that gathered around could do nothing to stop the two of them, as Sayid punched Sawyer in the stomach. But he obviously underestimated Sawyer, who, getting used to play without rules, threw sand at Sayid and tackled him. As they both were on the ground, Sawyer seized the opportunity and sat on Sayid and started to punch him in the face. The very moment, Jack arrived and with the help of Michael, they managed to separate them. After that, Michael told that Walt had found the handcuffs in the jungle, after which followed a train of Sawyer's accusatory speech towards Sayid and so on, but Margaret, who took little interest in men's show of ambitions, noticed that strange look in Kate's eyes, when she glanced down at the handcuffs. But as if Kate had felt someone staring at her, she lifted her eyes and Mags had to look aside hastily.

"We found the transceiver, but it's not working. Can anybody help?" Kate asked, eyeing the crowd.

"Yes, I might be able to," that was Sayid who still was under the influence of the recent events.

"Oh, great! Perfect! Let's trust this guy!" Sawyer was not so easy to drop the subject.

"Hey, we're all in this together, man. Let's treat each other with a little respect," Hurley tried to defend Sayid. Instead, all he got was insults. Jack had to interfere with it once again and, only after Sawyer had gone, there was some peace. Boone who had been silent before, walked up to Jack,

"You guys found the cockpit?" All he received was a nod. "Any survivors?"

"No," was a simple answer.

"It's dual band, military spec. Chances are, the battery's good, but the radio is dead. To fix it I need some time," Sayid muttered, examining the transceiver.

* * *

Margaret always had what was called a striking intuition. As a child she always knew when her parents lied to her, as a teenager she had no problems in choosing friend, because she saw their intentions in their eyes, now, as a grown-up she could read people as opened books, by their gestures, the way they acted, even by their smiles. It didn't take her a lot time to understand that Jack, Kate and Charlie saw much more then they told the others. Margaret did not like to be kept in the dark, so she wanted her questions to be answered and now.

"Jack!" she followed him as he headed to the infirmary tent to look at the man with the shrapnel. He turned as he heard her voice, frowned.

"Margaret, what did I tell you about walking…"

"Please, Jack, I'm not a baby!" she interrupted him, her voice determined. "Look, I know that you saw something in the jungle, something you don't want to speak about. But I think I have I right to know. What was it?" Jack was silent, he even didn't stop walking.

"Jack!" She grabbed his arm to stop him, and as he turned to her she looked him in the eye. "Was it what we saw yesterday?" she asked quietly. "Look, I know that something is wrong with this island and I don't know how, but I feel that it is no ordinary place. We don't know what is there in those jungles, we don't know where exactly are we, we even don't know when the help comes, if ever. All I ask of you, Jack is to be honest with me. I think I deserved it. WHAT HAPPENED THERE?" He was looking at her intently, silent, then he sighed deeply and nodded. Looking around to check that there wasn't anyone near, he ushered her into the tent.

* * *

Lily-May was sitting on the ground, running through her personal belongings, when she heard Shannon and Boone quarreling, again. This time, Shannon had a tantrum, because she wanted to go somewhere. Lily-May looked up to see Sayid and Kate ready to leave. She was smart enough to guess they were heading to the jungles to try that transceiver thing, but is Shannon really going with them? Then why can't she go too. Oh, yes, because…

"I'd like to come with you," Shannon seemed to be determined. Sayid and Kate stopped and looked at each other.

"She's not going. She doesn't want to go," Boone caught up with them.

The argument started all over, but Lily-May didn't follow it. Instead she was making up her mind. Jack told her, father wouldn't regain consciousness anytime soon, because his body was struggling with the infection and so on, and so forth… If she only…for several hours…it wouldn't do any harm, right? Lily-May stood up and casting one final look to the medical tent, walked towards the group, her mind set firmly.

"I want to go too," Kate looked down at her with visible irritation.

"Look, everybody can come, but we're leaving now. And it won't be an easy hike," she and Sayid turn and leave, letting the others to catch up with them. As the group started walking Lily-May smiled widely: yes, now she was free.

* * *

Margaret was sitting on the blanket, her things spread around, as she was sorting the clothes. She had changed and now wore dark blue jeans and a red halter neck top. All in all she felt renewed. Though all she had left behind was dear to her, she turned out all thoughts and memories out of her head.

"There. Ha! There -- right there's a foot! Wait, wait, he's moving around," Margaret looked to where Claire, the pregnant woman, was tormenting the Korean, and smiled, shaking her head slightly. Yes, men are cowards when it comes to something connected to the childbirth. Mags struggled to her feet and made her way towards a mother-to-be.

"Hi, you're Claire, right?" Claire nodded, smiling widely. "I'm Margaret, well Mags for short. See you're doing well here."

"Ya, he wasn't moving since…the crash, and now he's all kicking and moving round. God, it's definitely he!" Her eyes were shining with happiness so sincere that for a moment Mags felt a pang of envy, but immediately waved it off, laughing together with Claire.

"I admire you, Claire, you made all this way, in your condition, you're exceptionally brave girl…"

"Yeah, and very modern too, pregnant without a husband," she said sarcastically, but Mags saw there was pain behind her words.

"Hey, who cares? You're here, you're save and your baby is save, and that idiot of a father doesn't deserve even a half of your thought, cause he dared let such a gorgeous girl go!" Claire laughed softly, stroking her tummy. "Here," Mags handed her a pack of sweets, "I've found it among my belongings, don't remember, I took them ever. Anyway, you need them more then me."

"Thank you, Mags," Claire gave her a grateful smile.

* * *

Everyone gathered around Sayid listening to the strange message in French. "... Il est dehors... Il est dehors et Brennan pris les clefs! veuillez nous aider... Ils sont morts - Ils sont tous morts... Si n'importe qui peut entendre ceci veuillez nous aider..." It was so exiting and yet frightening to listen to the desperate woman's voice, especially to what she was saying and that she still was saying this. What type of a person would send such a message? Was it another survivor? And who were _they_? Why this message was still on? So many questions and no answers. The only thing everyone understood was that the help would not come as soon as they thought…

* * *

John Locke was sitting alone on the beach, cross-legged, in front of a small travel backgammon board.

"What is it, backgammon?" He didn't seem startle at all, as if he heard her coming close. "I haven't seen it for long."

"You wanna play?" He asked not looking at her.

"Sure," Mags sat down on the opposite side of Locke, so that the game board was between them. "As a child I used to play it with dad," she smiled sadly at the memory. "He adored the game, and I couldn't understand what was so special about it. In fact I always consider it to be rather stupid, it's just I liked to throw dice." There was a minute of silence. "Oh, I'm Margaret Rid."

"Lock. John Lock," he answered, shaking her extended hand.

"John Lock? Like the philosopher?"

"Surprisingly, that someone as young knows of him."

"Oh, my job requires all-rounded education," seeing his puzzled expression she explained, "I'm the professor of Intercultural Communication in Los-Angeles." She threw the dice and moved a black piece. "You know, I can't help, but feel miserable and useless, with my leg injured. I'm not used to sit idly, especially here, when there's so much to be done. Instead I'm walking back and forth, talking with anyone to pass away the time. Oh, it's killing me!"

"There is something special about this island, Margaret," Lock answered looking at her intently, "It's not an ordinary place. And you know what I think? I think it will heal all your wounds." Margaret started, alarm in her eyes as she felt he meant much more then he said. Her heart skipping a beat she asked,

"W-what kind of wounds do you mean?"

"Any," he answered smiling, and she wished he wouldn't. "Any, Margaret."

* * *

So, what d'you think? I'm waiting for your reviews. Suggestions and ideas are very welcomed. 


	4. Chapter 4

So here's a new chapter. Actually, I'm disappointed. Only one review…Is the story really that bad? At least have a cheek to tell me this and I'll stop writing…

**Chapter 4 "Hello and Welcome"**

Yes, the island was no ordinary place and it had its own mysteries, just like all those who had crashed on it. Exhausted, because she was not used to such walks, Lily-May was more then glad to see the beach and their small camp again. She couldn't get the events of the previous day and the strange French message out of her head and, perhaps, for the first time in her life she wished she could share her fears and thoughts with anyone. Strange, they were here for several days only, but she already felt she was changing, though she was not sure whether she liked these changes or not. Sweating from the heat, she went straight to the ocean, enjoying the refreshing water, splashing around her feet. For a moment she closed her eyes, pretending she was someone else, one of those heroines she had read in the books. Yes, it was a miracle…

"Hey there!" Lily-May's eyes snapped open, as she turned around to Margaret, who was walking toward her slowly. Lily-May noticed she was looking pretty in the new clothes and that her limping considerably lessened since she last saw her.

"Hi, you're looking great!" Margaret smiled at the complement.

"Admit, I'm surprised, never thought you're enjoying hiking."

"Oh, yes," Lily-May grunted, "that was unforgettable! Can you imagine what a glorious night I've spent with this Sawyer-guy and Miss Perfection – Shannon Rutherford?" The girls giggled together. "What were you doing here?"

"Nothing, just small stuff, sorting things, you know. Lock helped me to make a tent, so I have some place to hide from those unpredictable rains now."

"Lock?"

"Yeah, John Lock," seeing that Lily-May has no idea whom she was speaking about Mags added, "the bald gay."

"Oh, that. He's kinda strange, isn't he?" Lily-May didn't like that man at all. Somehow the very look of his made her uncomfortable, like he was seeing her inside out, and that was something she couldn't let happen.

"Strange? Probably, but I like to think that he's just experienced one and reliable, but whatever. So what kept you for so long?" Margaret asked turning her eyes to the ocean.

"We were trying to get the signal, had to climb high, that's all," Lily-May tried hard to be a good girl not to brake a word she had given to Sayid, when they were heading back. Not a word to anyone.

"And…" Mags looked at her intensely, "did you find anything?

"We…um…we, ah, hell, yes. We couldn't transmit the signal, because it was blocked by another one. It was a distress call from a French

Woman. She said that they're all dead. That something had killed them all. She was alone on the island. And it's been playing for sixteen years, Mags. Sayid and the others decided we shouldn't tell anyone, because as he said: "To relay what we heard without fully understanding it will cause a panic," Lily-May parodied Sayid, which would have made Margaret laugh if not for the seriousness of the situation. Instead, she sank to the sand, her face frantic.

"Sixteen years…She wasn't saved then, yes?" she looked up at the younger girl. "If the message is still playing then she was never found…"

"But, but you couldn't really mean that…that we would stay here for so long, right?" Lily-May felt how her heart clenched as a wave of cold panic washed over her.

"I, I don't know, really I don't…"

* * *

Jack was inside the crashed plane, going through the suitcases, looking for medicine. He of all people understood that fuselage must be burned, otherwise it could give a way to some infectious diseases and with lack of medication it could… Moreover yesterday's attack of boars wasn't a single act. He knew that this idea would be rejected, but they didn't really have much of a choice. Since the early morning people started gathering up wood for the fire, even if the very idea made them sick. Slowly, the fuselage was turning into a furnace. Jack sighed deeply, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I've heard what you are going to do with this fuselage," he turned to Margaret, who was leaning against the remains of the plane.

"What, came to say how utterly wrong it is?" Jack asked, tired of arguing with everyone about the thing.

"No, not at all," she stated simply. "Actually, I don't see any other way, we can…we can…get rid of those bodies. One shouldn't be a doctor to realize that several more hours in the sun will make this place swamping with infection."

"Are you always so practical? You don't even seem bothered to be around here," she smiled to him secretly.

"I'm just a damn good actress. Besides, I think it's not the dead we should be afraid of… Moreover, cremation itself is not that bad if you ask me. I mean, many cultures in the world believe this is the only proper way of facing the afterlife." Jack came close to her, looking her in the eyes.

"What makes you say so, your profession?"

"No, my personal experience, and, yes, yes, I'm kinda down-to-earth person, so we'd better finish what we've started and if we ever manage to get out of this damned island, ok, then we gave in the sense of remorse." Jack nodded, still looking a bit disapproving of her consumer's way of life. The silence fell between them.

"So we don't have much medication, do we?" Margaret tried to change the topic. She always told herself to keep her mouth shut around such noble and philanthropic people like Jack, but always failed miserably.

"Yes, I've looked through the entire luggage and didn't find much. But I also suppose Sawyer has some…"

"Sawyer?" Margaret arched a brow in surprise. Jack hoisted a backpack on his shoulder and they moved along the beach line.

"Yeah, he was looting, stealing from the dead."

"Why I'm not surprised? What a naughty boy!" They both smiled. "So," Margaret began slowly, "if, to say, I have lost something, chances are, Sawyer has it, right?"

"You've lost something?" Jack prompted.

"Just…an item of my luggage, nothing special. Well, I think I'd better see it found now," swiftly, she turned and walked away, towards Sawyer's tent, leaving Jack's mind to wander.

* * *

Sawyer was sitting outside his tent on the beach, reading a book and smoking a cigarette. However his reverie was suddenly broken as the shadow fell on his face. Lazily, he looked up to face indignant Margaret, her arms folded across her chest.

"Wahoo! Just look who's here! Came for a visit, Honey?"

"Leave your sarcasm to someone else, Sawyer. I've got no time for that. Jack told me that you were rummaging through the belongings of the dead…"

"Of course, our venerable Doctor was furious. How noble of him!" Sawyer smirked, while Mags rolled her eyes. Ok, this won't be an easy task.

"Ok, I'll stick right to the point," she started business-like, ignoring his wild grin, she so much wished to wipe from his face. "One of my things is missing and I daresay I know where to find it. Where is it?"

"Where's what, Honey?"

"The case, black case, which, I suppose, you did not manage to open." She was running out of patience much faster then she thought she would.

"Oh, that case!" Sawyer didn't even bother to get up. "So that's yours? Honestly, Honey, what are you smuggling there, drugs? I mean, hey, a gorgeous girl in the evening dress with a case… Quite suspiciously, isn't it?"

"Look," she pointed an angry finger at him, "I'm not here to squabble with you. I'm fed up with your being such an ass," she looked around to be sure no one is near them. "Ok, sure, your having your problems, and believe me, I don't give a damn, whether they are a reflection of your troubled past or you're just such a jerk. What I care is just to have that damned case back, and believe me I'm gonna get it!" Sawyer got up, his eyes dark with rage, his fists clenched, and stepped closer to Margaret, who didn't move a bit.

"Think, you know something about me? Think, you understand me? Better get out of here, girl, before I'll loose my temper completely!"

"Don't try to scare me, Sawyer. It won't work. YOU WILL GIVE ME THE CASE." This was posed as a guttural threat, their eyes were fixed in a fierce look.

"Think, you're so tough, ah?" Sawyer muttered through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I do." Margaret took some final steps to him, so their bodies almost touched. "I won't tell you twice: gimme the case."

"Or what?" Before he even get a chance to finish, Margaret, in one swift circular motion, grabbed Sawyer's hand, pinching several nerve centers, and turned around, hyper-flexing the wrist in the other direction, so that the overwhelming pain and the speed of the movement made Sawyer turn over in the air and fall to the ground with a thud. He groaned in pain, fighting for breath.

"W-What the…fuck…d'you think you're doing?" He growled and was about to try to get up, but Margaret bended his wrist harder with one hand, making him moan, while grabbing his elbow by another, using it as a lever and turning Sawyer's elbow away from the center of his body. His face buried into the sand, as he struggled not to cry out for help.

"Now, where the case?" Margaret hissed, still holding Sawyer's arm in her steel grip.

"You're fucking crazy bitch! Let go of me!" He shouted, spitting sand. Margaret hardened her grip, so Sawyer could almost hear his bones cracking.

"Believe me if I do it again, your arm's gonna break. For the last time I ask you: where's the case?"

"Over there, in my tent," Sawyer was not used to loose, however he must admit that time he had no other choice, that wench was really psychotic.

"Not listen to me, Cowboy," Margaret leaned in so that he could perfectly hear her. "You tell anyone about that _incident_ and I swear I'll finish what I've started. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Sawyer grunted.

"Very well," she let go of his arm, so he finally could turn flat on his back, nursing injured and already swelling hand, while Margaret went inside his tent to get the case.

"Remember, Sawyer, tell no one, I'm not joking," with that words, she went to her own tent, leaving disoriented Sawyer in disbelief.

* * *

Margaret burst into her tent and dropped the case to the floor. Trembling violently, she fell to her knees and start rummaging through her thing frantically, not caring much about the mess she was making. Finally she produced a sporty multi-functional black watch and stared at them as if it was some kind of the unknown weapon able to destroy the universe. With shaking hands, she carefully pushed one of the buttons and the secret compartment of the watch clicked open. Inside, was a small key, which she took warily and clenched it in her hand, so that her knuckles became white. Taking a deep calming breath, she put the key into the lock of the case and was about to open it, when all the events of the several past day hit her with new strength. What was going on with her? How could she miss the moment when her life became so utterly wrong? Who was she anyway? No, even Margaret couldn't answer this question for sure. Why? Why all of this had to happen with her?

Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't pay any attention. How long would she be hiding from the truth that was both terrifying and inevitable? What had happened to her, what had happened to the world she knew? She wanted everything to be right, she wanted just to live her little ordinary life. Instead she had deceived all her ideals, her faith, people who believed her… Why? She couldn't understand… Margaret started sobbing uncontrollably, clasping a hand over her moth for no one to hear her. Whatever she had turned into was evil, was heartless, but she had passed the point of no return and she couldn't do anything about it…

* * *

The sun was scorching, so everyone was hiding inside their tents, except for Lily-May, who took her time, enjoying the freedom she had, soft splashing of the water, the feel of sand in her hands. She hadn't done anything of that kind since she was a child of six. For several hours she managed to create a real masterpiece – a castle of the sand, with huge towers, massive gates, intricate windows and a real moat and now was adding some final touches.

That was until a small tennis ball landed in the middle of her creation, ruining several towers and damaging the gates. Before Lily-May had an opportunity to recover from this, Vincent, the dog, jumped for the ball, destroying everything she had been crafting for so long. Somewhere near Walt whispered something similar to "Oops!", but Lily-May could not hear it. Blood rushed to her face, she started shaking from the rage, her hands clenched into fists. How dare him! No one ever could do that and went unpunished! Oh, she would gladly break his neck!

"Um, I'm…I'm very sorry, Miss," Walt made his best to apologize, though her flashing eyes didn't help. "It's Vincent…I mean, he didn't want…it wasn't on purpose…it's an accident…"

An accident? Oh, when she would get her revenge – that would be an accident! Lily-May almost made a step towards Walt, almost, but her eyes suddenly fell onto the man who was standing not so far away watching the scene attentively. It didn't take her much time to understand that that was John Lock. He peered into her eyes like he was reading her very soul, which Lily-May couldn't let him do. Her anger vanished as soon as it appeared, her heart washed with cold dread. As if mocking her he smiled his unsettling, alarming smile and shiver ran down her spine. However, she took the hint and turned to Walt smiling sweetly, the way only she could.

"Well, Walt, right?" the boy nodded uncertainly. "D'you have any idea of how much time did I spend doing this castle?"

"I'm really sorry, Miss, I didn't…"

"And," She cut him off shortly, "I'm not satisfied with your apologizing only. Let me see how to punish you…" She made a dramatic pause, which made Walt more panicky as he had been. "Oh, I know! Since you and your dog considered my work a crap, you are most obliged to help me with another one." Walt breathed out a sigh of relief and grinned at her.

"Sure, Miss."

"And call me just Lily-May or I feel myself old and all that out-of-date."

* * *

The sun was going down slowly, at least it wasn't as burning as before. Margaret was sitting alone facing the ocean, far from their camp, her jeans rolled up to her knee, so that the soft waves were splashing her bare legs. Light breeze was playing with her hair, but she didn't really noticed it, her eyes peered into the horizon did not see the beauty of the setting sun. She was lost in her thoughts, she was recollecting…

Flashback

"Onegasimas!" The chorus of harmonious voices greeted their sensei with a bow – dzarei. Then, people in white kimonos spread out the gym to do the warming up. Margaret was sitting in the far corner of the gym on a small bench, dressed in a pretty flowered dress, her hair in a high ponytail. Her face was overcast, nearly suffering. She caught a sight of a man about her own age, dark-haired with an open honest face and laughing green eyes, who gave her an encouraging, almost intimate smile. She tried to return the smile, but it looked much of the weak imitation.

"He is concerned about you, Maggie Sun," the voice of the sensei broke Margaret's reverie immediately. He took a sit beside her, looking at the dark-hired student, doing different techniques in real-fight conditions. "Dennis suffers because he knows he cannot help you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Margaret looked her sensei, the man she completely trusted and utterly respected. He was in his fifties, muscular, well-build, charismatic – a real leader. His skills and leadership were emphasized by dark-blue hakama – wide pleated trousers, which only experienced teachers were allowed to wear. His eyes convey the wisdom of generations along with his own reach life experience. His knowledge of anything in the world had always fascinated Margaret since the day she first met him.

"Because, Maggie Sun, for a week already you are coming here, watching the trainings and go away…"

"I've made my mind, sensei," she interrupted him, trying to make her voice sound confident, but failing miserably. "I…I can't train anymore…"

"Why, Maggie Sun, why?"

"Because…you won't understand…I…you know what does it mean for me…not just a martial art, but a whole philosophy I always tried to stick to…And now I understand that to stay here would be a profanation of a belief, that I cannot allow this to happen. I value it too much to stay here. I've made up my mind and I'm leaving your dojo," her eyes were filled with tears, as she thought of her every dream began to shatter because of one small mistake. She was so lost and it seemed that every part of her life was rifting. But till now she had only one place she felt secure, place where she felt someone was still caring for her, her new big family. Now like all the pious sinners she must run away from here not to defile the only pure place left in her life. Yes, she had set her mind firmly. She had to pay for her own mistakes. After all, she was past the point of no return…

The End of Flashback

"Hey, hi there!" Margaret didn't notice Boone coming up to her. She looked up to meet his glance. His look was somehow concerned and it made Margaret feel guiltier. "I've noticed you've been sitting here for several hours already, staring at one spot. Everything's ok?" Margaret shook her head slowly, giving him a little smile.

"Yeah, everything's fine," her voice sound hoarse, as if she hadn't spoken for years. "I'm just…been thinking…" Boone nodded and took a sit next to her.

"Homesick already?" She chuckled at the very thought.

"It might have been a very good excuse, but, alas, I have only two people in my life to feel homesick for… It's probably my students I miss most of all!" She glanced at his incredulous face. "Oh, I know how pathetic I sound!"

"Yeah, a bit!" Boone chortled. "Look, whatever you were there, back on the continent, it's not important now. We're all here in the same boat, all are the sinners. Think, it's time to start over." Margaret looked at him carefully, but saw no sings of joking. Did he understand how much those word meant for her?

"Guess you're right," she answered slowly.

"Good," he said getting up. "Actually, I've a request from Claire for you. She asked if you mind telling some words during the ceremony. It seems that our doctor is reluctant to do that."

"Me? Telling the words?" Margaret was perplexed. "Wait, why me?"

"Well, we thought you're a professor, you're used to speeches."

"Serious?"

"Oh, come on, it's only a few words! And we better get going or we'll miss everything," he extended his hand, which she took gladly, and helped her to get up. "Wait, Boone, I just want to ask you a question," he turned his head to her. "What you're doing back home, I mean, your profession?" it took him several moments to answer.

"I'm the chief operating officer of my mother's company."

"What kind of company?'

" Um…it's…wedding business…"

"What?" Mags asked incredulous.

"Wedding business, that's my mother's company and…"

"Holy shit! You must be kidding me!"

"Yeah, very funny!"

"Well, actually it is!" Laughing together they made their way towards the camp, to get ready to the ceremony which promised to be uneasy.

* * *

Smoke and fiery embers were rising up against the night sky, creating the special effect of something sacred and at the same time desperate happening. The fire, as it is, is an element always connected with danger, fear, loss, but at the same time with purification and renewal. The burning fuselage was casting shadows on the faces of survivors, standing before it, some bowing their heads in prayer, others quietly crying. All the while hearing Claire's voice, who was sniffling her way through these impromptu eulogies. Hurley was standing next to her, holding various I.D.s, documents and other items. Boone was also near, holding up a torch, giving her the light to read. Margaret was standing behind Claire half hidden in the shadows of the night. Tears were silently spilling from her eyes, while she heard the younger girl's trembling voice:

"Steve and Kristen. I don't know their last names, but...They were in love... And they were going to be married…" her voice broke. "At least... At least wherever they are now... they have each other...They're not alone..."

Lily-May was standing apart from the other survivors. Her face was twisted and it seemed as if her only desire was to get out of there, to run away, no matter where to, just not to hear Claire's voice, not to see the other's troubled faces. She hated such processions. Her eyes were dry, her mind wandered. She thought of how good it would be if she were somewhere in India now. Yes, she always dreamed of visiting India…

After Claire finished reading the names, she gave a way to Margaret, who stepped forward, for anyone to see her. It all looked so familiar, the feeling she experienced was familiar with the one she had not long ago, but today all was different. Today she wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing, today she was a sheep like all the others, oblivious of the fact that there was a wolf too. Her voice was quiet, but everyone could hear it clearly, as she started her simple speech:

"_We are here, all of us, because nothing is forever and now the time came when we all must say goodbye to the world we knew. Goodbye to everything we had taken for granted_," she glanced at Shannon who as standing uncomfortably, looking around "_Goodbye to those we thought would never abandon us,"_ Margaret shifted her gaze to Rose who clenched the wedding band in her hand. "_And when these changes finally do occur, when the familiar has departed and the unfamiliar has taken its place, all any of us can really do is to say hello and welcome…"_

"_Never-never_

_I'll never forget what you've been for me _

_You picked me up when I was broken_

_And you assembled me once again_

_On this small land_

_On what should I lay my eyes?_

_So endless, so deep_

_There's no more time… Nothing exists…_

_We are apart…The reality is only what remains…_

_The things that've been are forever… _


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: Ok, hi, everyone! Um, I'm not dead as most of you thought and I'm back from the self-organized vacations! I'm still on the story, so hopefully I won't abandon it one more time. But, again,no promises! _

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed and stayed with the story. Special thanks to _Red Bess Rackham _- your reviews inspired me once again, so here I am!_

_Guys, don't forget to review, your suggestions are most welcomed! _

* * *

"_Yes, I remember the outer world. Every detail. And what I remember the most is how afraid I was…" _

_The darkness of the night was almost palpable. The remains of the fires cast ugly shadows at the small camp on the beach, while the island seemed to live its own mysterious life. It seemed that now, when no light could reach the jungle line, a whole new frightening world was created there, the world no man could enter without being caught and punished for such an intrusion. The air around was thick with the foreboding of something bad about to happen. That was the nagging feeling of__ dread that woke Margaret up in the middle of the night. The feeling that left her restless, unable to sleep, the feeling that made her heart clench with unknown fear, the one she last had while boarding the fateful flight 815… _

_She was lying still, her eyes shut, listening to the sounds of the night. The cries of the unknown birds, the hushed lapping of the waves, the cracking of the coals in the dying fire…Suddenly she caught a muffled movement inside her tent, rustling. Though it could have been just a breeze playing with the tarpaulin, her heart sank, for she never believed in coincidence. Margaret's eyes flew open. It took her several seconds to adjust to the surrounding darkness, before she could make out an outline of a man's figure. As if on her own accord her hand reached for the flashlight that she always kept near in case of emergency. A cry died in her throat as in the dim light she recognized the figure instantly…_

_She sat there paralyzed unable to say a word, to move or even to breath. Her heart was ready to burst out of the ribcage and it seemed to her that in the night's silence her heart beating sounded like the bolts of thunder. _

"_Hello, Magsie," she recognized his voice instantly, as no matter how hard she tried to get it out of her head it still called to her every night in her nightmares. With horror she looked at his smiling face. Last time she saw him he looked absolutely dead, but now, here, in the jungles, far away from the life-saving bustle of her dear Los-Angeles, in the faint light, he looked even deader, if that was possible. His skin was mottled, white and disgustingly wrinkled, but Margaret had no courage to take her eyes off it, to look down to his chest, where she knew was a huge bloody spot. "That's just a dream, just a dream," she tried to pull herself together, "that can't be true. You saw him dying, you saw."_

"_What, swallowed your tongue, Magsie?" He obviously was mocking, taking pleasure in seeing her utter terror._

"_You are not real…" she whispered, finally finding her voice, though it sounded not at all convincing. _

"_Oh, I am, my dear, I AM REAL," he sounded absolutely pleased with himself, as he always loved making an impression. In conformation, he took something out of his pocket and Margaret heard a metallic click. However she couldn't fully comprehend what it was, as her mind was racing, her very being told her it was impossible, and yet he was there right in front of her, the nightmare that had been hunting her for ages._

"_Regi, I…" her voice strained, as she was at a loss for words. How many times she wished that she would have a chance to change what had happened, how many times she wished she could explain him everything. But now she was so frightened, her voice sounded so weak, so shaking, she was afraid that soon she would loose it._

"_Wanna say you are so sorry, like: I didn't do it, it was an accident," his voice became dark and he took a step towards her, making Mags backing away into a corner. "But the truth is: you did it, and you were perfectly well aware of what you were doing, my dear, and now look at me: am I to your liking?" He pointed to the large scarlet spot on his shirt. _

"_But it was an accident!" Margaret cried out, gathering all the remains of her courage. "I swear I didn't want it!"_

"_Sure, so easy to say: oh, I'm such a poorlamb, I was but the victim of the circumstances, I was used, but I didn't mean it. No, my dear, look at what you've done to me, and face it." Now he was towering over Margaret, who was shaking immensely, a grim smirk on his twisted face._

"_Please," she pleaded weakly, "please leave me…"_

"_Leave? Oh no, that would be too easy. You won't get away with it forever, my dear. Why don't we take a tour? I've heard the sea air is very good for skin. Come," he stretched out his hand as if seriously expecting Margaret would take it._

"_No!" She yelled at the top of her voice._

"_No?" He asked and his faced grew wild. Only then Margaret noticed how unnaturally black his eyes were. He then neared her in one swift motion, grabbed her by the wrist, so that Margaret could swear her bones cracked, and hauled her to her feet. The flashlight she was holding fell to the ground and died. She tried to break away from his inhuman grasp, but it was to no avail. Somehow six years of tiring trainings in martial arts didn't help her to break free, as he yanked her out of the tent and away from the camp. It seemed to her that she was made from feather, as Regi was dragging her to the jungle. She tried to cry for help, but surprisingly no one seemed to hear her desperate cries. He entered the jungles as if knowing where to go, his pace fast and determined, he made his way among the trees to the unseen purpose. His grip on her wrist was so firm it felt numb, but he kept moving, and she couldn't stop him. It's been an eternity of walking before the fresh cool air of night jungles or something else made Margaret think straight. Whatever is happening she cannot lose control of the situation. He is long dead and gone, he is unreal, but she, she is alive and she is strong and trained and she got out of much worse situations. And no way she would let him drag her into the jungles, to where that fucking thing lives!_

"_NO!" Margaret dug her heels in the ground, stopping him instantly on some kind of a clearing. "I won't fucking go with you anywhere!" _

"_You won't?" His grip on her hand tightened so that she felt her flesh smashing. The tears of pain sprang from her eyes, but she stood her ground as firmly as she could. "But you have to, my dear." He said through clenched teeth. "You see, it's your destination out there." He pointed down to where was dark dense impenetrable forest._

"_I WON'T GO ANYWHERE!" She screamed in his dead face. He then backhanded her across the face with such force that she lost her footing and fell to the ground. _

"_What's wrong, my dear? Are you frightened? Oh, you're so pretty while scared…" Regi was looming over her, tall and vindictive._

"_Regi…" she begged, sensing that the denouement was on its way._

"_There's no use to beg, my dear," he said, taking something out of his pocket. Mags shuddered when in the moonlight she saw a gun, pointed straight in her heart. "You see, everyone should pay for his sins…" With those words he pulled the trigger… _

Margaret awoke with a jolt, gasping for air. Looking around panicky she understood she still was in her tent. Making several deep calming breaths she tried to persuade herself that it was just the worst of her nightmares. Finding the flashlight by feeling, she never ever was so happy to see the light again. Just a dream, just a nightmare… But something told her everything was not as it seemed. The feeling still stayed with her. She remembered the details of the nightmare with quiver. Yes, something was wrong… The sharp pain in her right hand made her gasp, and the wave of cold terror filled her heart as she looked down: her wrist was purple and bloodstained just where Regi had clasped it. Margaret struggled for breath as the horror of all that happened hit her with new force. This was impossible, and yet her hand was bleeding and hurting like hell. She could but wonder whether that wound was somehow self-inflicted or that terrible nightmare wasn't just the product of her ill imagination, but something much more terrifying. Anyways, she couldn't let her mind wonder further and led her to uncontrollable panic. She must keep her sanity otherwise she would loose it. Her heart still racing and head reeling from all the thoughts crossing her mind, she preferred to burst into the feverish action rather then sit there in the frightening darkness and wonder. Several deep breaths and Margaret felt new found courage building up inside her. No, she won't let it get her this easy. No damned way! She would not sit here like an obedient sheep waiting to be cooked for dinner. She and only she was in control of her life. She must find out what happened before he could finish what he's started.

Hastily she tore apart the cloth that served her as a blanket and wrapped it around her injured hand, then crept up to where under the other bags the case was well hidden. Yes, it contained the solution she needed, but the question was would she be able to use it after all that happened? She vowed to herself not to open it until the extreme emergency. Could that be called an extreme? She looked at the case intently. One simple movement and all would be over. But she knew that with that small decision the last pieces of Margaret Rid would be destroyed forever. "Not yet, not yet…"

Still shaking she grabbed the flashlight and jumped out of her tent. Going, no matter where was still better for her than sitting in her tent she had considered safe. Whatever happens now, she always was taught to meet the danger face to face. Hurriedly, almost running, in order not to loose her courage provoked by adrenaline, on the verge of hysterics, she started towards the jungles, to where Regi had taken her in her dream or whatever it was. She felt she had to go there, like it contained something important, a clue of a kind.

Suddenly someone grabbed her shoulder and as Margaret cryed out still under the effect of the dream, a hand clasped over her mouth, but before she could fight whoever her attacker was, a voice whispered into her ear:

"Ts, you'll wake the whole camp. Bet you don't plan on doing that, don't you?" the hands then released her and Margaret whirled to face John Locke. He looked pretty pleased with the effect he produced on her, but seeing her shaking from head to toe his forehead frowned in sincere apprehension.

"Damn, are you fucking crazy?" Margaret screamed fighting back the tears of fear, her voice as terrified and quiver as she had never remembered it to be so miserable before. "You scared me out my fucking wits! Now think of a good excuse, !"

"I've told you, you started screaming and could have woken all the people up. You know, we all have the hard time here without additional unfounded fright." He looked as calm as ever. Though his eyes still were scrutinizing her up and down. She almost thought he was really concerned about her. Almost…

"Yeah, right. I could have died all because you are such a damned humanist," She rolled her eyes. Somehow being around him was soothing and calming. However that didn't mean she trusted him. "What are you doing awake at this time?" Mags narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Locke just shook his shoulders.

"Well, someone should stay awake, in case if anyone would take it into their head to drop in." She nodded not at all convinced, but he didn't have to know it. He looked at her with that look only he could muster, the look that dug deep into one's soul and left it restless, and she had strong desire to look away, but she knew she mustn't loose that battle. "Speaking about night wandering, you were going for a stroll, weren't you?" _It's like one of those tests_, Margaret told herself, before putting on one of her most nonchalant faces.

"Ah, nay, I've just had an unpleasant dream, so decided that a gulp of fresh air would do me good," she gave him a small smile. However his face grew serious as he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Remember what I told you about this island, that it's no ordinary place? Well, maybe everything here have its own meaning?" He tried to speak lightly, but Margaret felt he meant every word. "Maybe dreams also have there meanings? Like riddles, we need to solve. D'you like to solve riddles?"

"I used to, when I was a child, but, I guess I'm old enough for them now," She prayed he would look away, that look of his unnerved her. The only thing she wanted just to be as far from him as possible, but she willed herself to stay there and look if not into his eyes, then at least in his face.

"Riddles are never late to solve, Margaret," he smiled his dilapidated smile that sent shivers down her spine. "But, whatever, it's better to solve them in the daylight, then in the dark." With those words he went away into the darkness, leaving her speechless and restless.


End file.
